HELP!
by Mitie Mouse
Summary: CHAPTER4!What happens when the LCHS band gets trapped in the bandhall for an entire weekend?! Will the flutes be able to live with the trumpets and tubas in a pitch-black BANDHALL that long?! How will they get out?! HELP, WE'RE TRAPPED IN THE BANDHALL!
1. Shelf Catastrophe, the Lights Go Out!

Author's Note: The following story is about the trauma experienced by a high school band forced to spend the weekend locked in the bandhall with no food, showers, or light most of the time. Yeah, I know, kinda silly.but band is, too, right? Right. A lot of the jokes would only be understood by a select group from the LCHS band, but hey, I thought I might write them down anyway.  
  
A List of Characters:  
  
Katie: flute/picc player, freshman, SHORT  
  
Allison: clarinet, freshman, band director's daughter  
  
Gillian: clarinet, freshman, really really *unique*.  
  
Jenny: flute player, freshman  
  
Sandy: flute player, sophmore  
  
Mr. Bachelor: assistant director of the LCHS band  
  
Mr. McAdow: head director, though some people refer to him as Hitler, that shall not be featured in this story  
  
Ken: Drum major (aka Dumb Major)  
  
Certain Trumpet/"Clayton": trumpet, sophmore, and that's all I'm gonna say  
  
Chapter One: The Lights Go Out!  
  
  
  
Katie stomped down the athletics hallway, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her face pulled down into an obvious sign of grumpy rage. Another bad day. When would they end? Katie rammed the door to the Bandhall Hall open, causing it to "BANG!" the facing wall loudly. She began to rampage through the doorway.and promptly ran smack into the doorbar seperating the frames. Great. If she wasn't tripping all over everything, she was running into everything.  
  
She rubbed her aching head and continued briskly toward the bandhall door, ignoring everything in the hallway. Including Allison, one of her best friends.  
  
"What happened THIS time, Katie?!" Allison asked in a concerned tone, practically jogging to keep up with Katie.  
  
Katie sighed and stopped. "Just another bad day, Allison, and theater didn't help today. Hey, let's go see who's in the bandhall, maybe we can just goof-off this afternoon," Katie suggested, calming down with considerable effort.  
  
"You mean like we do everyday?" Allison asked in an amused voice.  
  
"Yeah, like we do everyday," Katie replied with a smirk. Katie never liked to do homework at the bandhall while waiting for her mother to come pick her up from school. She also didn't like riding the bus.there was never any room for her and never anyone to sit with. That had never made sense to Katie.she was really short! Allison was always in the bandhall after school.her mother worked as well and her dad was the band director!  
  
Katie and Allison walked through the open bandhall door and checked out the terrain. The bandhall was pretty packed, there wouldn't be any problem finding people to talk to today. Slinging her backpack down on the ground, Katie whirled around to follow Allison to her shelf. At Allison's shelf in the clarinet "cubbies" she found Gillian, another freshman clarinet player and also one of Katie's best friends.  
  
"I gotta go or I'm gonna miss the bus!" Gillian panted as she reached for her shelf. It was just a liiiiiiiiiiittle too high for her. She jumped and tried to grab hold of her clarinet case, but it alluded her fingers by a mere inch. "AHHHH I HATE THIS SHELF, IT'S TOO HIGH!!!! Where's my band binder?!" Gillian complained loudly. She had found her clarinet.well, she had found it when it had come toppling out of the shelf because the bouncing of the shelf Gillian caused when she jumped and held on to it had dislodged it. Gillian, with a determined look on her face, grabbed her shelf, climbed up on top of another shelf a couple up from the ground, and stretched her arm as far as it would go.  
  
"Gillian, what are you doing?!" an authoritive voice rang out above the noise of talking band nerds. Mr. Bachelor had decided to do something about the safety hazard being committed in an effort to reach Gillian's band binder.  
  
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" Gillian "honked" (as she has a habit of doing) and the shelf that was supporting her weight became uncapable of supporting it.  
  
CRASH!!! Clarinets, band binders, and Gillian were all over the floor. Although Gillian was in one piece, and thankfully the clarinets in their cases were, too, the band binders were not. Music was fluttering to the floor in a five foot radius around the stack of clarinet shelves.  
  
Allison and Katie, giggling behind their hands (they were attempting to stifle, or at least postpone, the roars of laughter they were tempted to release), ran for the door back out to the Bandhall Hall. As they were running, they narrowly avoided smacking into Jenny and Sandy, two other flute players and good friends of Katie's (yes, I'm sure you've noticed that so far every good friend and mentioned character in this story has been a flute or a clarinet. That's because they're the only ones smart enough for each other.) Allison and Katie each took a flute player and jerked them out into the Bandhall Hall.  
  
"What are you doing?" Jenny asked in her characterisic high-pitched voice.  
  
"Uh, yeah, why did you guys drag us out HERE when we want to be in THERE?" Sandy asked, though not in a mean way.  
  
The two witnesses ran through the entire story of Gillian breaking a clarinet shelf as Mr. Bachelor watched. Soon all four woodwinds were in hysterics. They got quite a few strange looks from brass players who were straggling into the bandhall, even though the bell had long since rung.  
  
As they smiled their last few smiles and giggled their last few giggles, the four girls re-entered the bandhall. They figured Gillian and Mr. Bachelor had finished, and they should help clean all that music up before the loading crew got a hold of it. Ever since junior high certain trombone players had been fond of ripping music they found lying around into pieces and disposing of the ruined sheets.  
  
As they were about to go into the bandhall, the door to the Bandhall Hall opened, and someone walked in. This someone happened to be a trumpet player.one Katie had had a run-in with earlier. The details of the run-in shall not be related.  
  
"AGH!" Katie sighed disgustedly. Even though the trumpet and she were starting to talk again, she still didn't want to seem like she wanted to be best friends or anything. "Let's lose him."  
  
The woodwinds ran into the bandhall and quickly shut the door. When the trumpet saw what they were doing, he ran to catch the door, but he was too late. Mr. McAdow walked up behind him.  
  
"Mr. Clayton, why is the door shut?"  
  
"Uh.I don't know. I'm trying to get it open."  
  
Mr. McAdow and "Clayton" then proceeded to tug at the door with all their might. Allison, Katie, Jenny, and Sandy, however, were much too strong for the two trumpet players (Mr. McAdow had originally played trumpet). Perhaps if they had known that McAdow was on the other side of the door as well, none of the mess they were about to get into would have happened.  
  
Suddenly, as the woodwinds were barricading themselves into the bandhall and keeping the trumpet in the Bandhall Hall.the lights went out! A panic immeadiately broke out in the bandhall among those who were left.  
  
Ken's voice could be heard shouting over the screaming trumpets. (Some trumpets would later claim it had been the FLUTES making such a noise, but the extremely mature flutes knew the truth.and so did the rest of the band.)  
  
"QUIET! EVERYONE SHUT-UP AND STAY CALM UNTIL THE LIGHTS COME BACK ON! DON'T MOVE, YOU MIGHT HURT SOMEONE!" Ken, the former drum major (also called the "Dumb Major" by his trombone section) shouted at the top of his drum major lungs.  
  
The band had been trained to respond to that drum major voice (and the trumpets were feeling really stupid for screaming like girls) so everyone stopped talking and stopped moving. Everyone waited breathlessly for the electricity to come back on.  
  
  
  
An hour later, it was still pitch-black in the bandhall of LCHS. 


	2. TUBAS!

A/N: My main note is at the end, but I had to say that the LCHS band is back, and still stuck! New characters should be explained in the story, but if you don't understand or if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Please review, flames accepted. Oh, yeah, bandhall was meant to be one word, band isn't just and adjective, it's LIFE! And Bandhall Hall is actually what we call the hall leading to the bandhall. Crazy, I know, but LCHS wouldn't be LCHS without it! Ok, I'll get on with it now.  
  
Chapter Two: TUBAS?!?!?!  
  
"Ok, this is getting absolutely ridiculous. Ken, I'm right by the door and I'm leaving. Unless I run into the door and hurt MYSELF no one will get hurt. If you're not out in the parking lot in thirty minutes, I'm WALKING home!" Jenny, the Dumb Major's little sister (a French horn) declared. Katie was beginning to think Jenny had the right idea. And hey, she was shorter than Jenny, no one would REALLY see her leaving the bandhall, especially if she got right in front of Jenny so no one could see her even if they tried.  
  
Jenny reached out for the doorknob and tugged. Nothing happened. Jenny pulled a little harder. Still, nothing moved. Jenny threw her backpack and purse onto the floor and began jerking on the doorknob with all her might. The bandhall door simply would not budge.  
  
"ALL RIGHT, WHOEVER'S IN THERE HOLDING THE DOOR SHUT, WE'RE COMING AFTER YOU! YOU WILL BE SEVERLY PUNISHED FOR THIS ACT OF DISPOBEDIENCE!" a muffled voice could be heard, apparently shouting angrily through the door to the Bandhall Hall. Everyone groaned. It was Mr. McAdow.  
  
"OH MY GOSH I FORGOT! My dad was fixing to go yell at Mr. Wurst for failing another kid because he's in band! Oh, man, he must have gotten stuck out there in the Bandhall Hall!" Allison cried. Everyone groaned louder. A MAD Mr. McAdow.  
  
"MR. MCADOW, CAN YOU HEAR US?!" Mr. Bachelor shouted desperately. He had fought his way through the crowd to the door, since he of course was above Ken's Dumb Major orders.  
  
"MR. BACHELOR, WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Mr. McAdow shouted back.  
  
"I'M NOT AT ALL ENTIRELY SURE! WE CAN'T SEEM TO GET THE DOOR OPEN AND THERE ARE NO LIGHTS ON IN HERE!"  
  
"THERE ARE LIGHTS OUT HERE, BUT I CAN'T GET THE DOOR TO THE ATHETICS HALLWAY OPEN! HAVE YOU TRIED THE DOOR TO THE OUTSIDE?!"  
  
Mr. Bachelor's face suddenly brightened. He raced through the bandhall (ignoring protesting shouts from the band nerds he was forced to run-over in the pitch blackness.  
  
"Ah hahahahahhahahahaha I'm going to get out of here alive! No babysitting and entire band for me, I'm going home to eat cookies and chips and watch football! Ah hahahahahahahahahahahahaha you will not get me evil BAND DEVIL!" Mr. Bachelor mumbled manically as he raced to the door leading to the courtyard outside the school.  
  
"So THAT'S what happens to you when you spend more than 8 years in band. Remind me NOT to be a band director when I graduate!" Katie whispered to Sandy. Sandy nodded in the blackness.  
  
Mr. Bachelor finally reached the opposite door. He pulled with all his might.  
  
CLICK! The lights burst back on.  
  
"Now THAT was weird," Mr. Bachelor said in a surprisingly calm manner. Then he promptly began to panic.  
  
"OH MY DEARIE GOODNESS THE DOOR WON'T OPEN! WE'RE TRAPPED, WE'RE TRAPPED! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" And with that, the LCHS assistant band director fainted.  
  
"Oh, great. Now we have no responsible adult. Someone PLEASE shut those tubas up!" Susheela, another intelligent flute playing sophomore shouted at the top of her VERY STRONG lungs.  
  
The entire tuba section had burst into tears. "WAAAAAAAAAAAA WE'RE STUCK WE'RE NEVER GONNA GET OUT OF HERE WE'RE GONNA DIE!" screamed Chris, a particularly tall tuba. "I WANT MY MOMMY!" All the rest of the tubas were screaming similar comments through hysteric tears. Watching this display, the trumpets were starting to get a little jittery.  
  
"Oh my gosh, let me through!" Katie demanded in an exasperated manner. "Look, Chris, how do you think WE feel about being stuck here?! And WE aren't bawling like babies, are we? Granted, we do have an IQ higher than a baby's, but you've GOT to grow up! WILL YOU ALL STOP SOBBING BEFORE YOU SET THE TRUMPETS OFF?!" Katie suddenly screamed when she had reached the group of tubas in the corner of the bandhall near the tuba room.  
  
There was an abrupt silence as every single tuba player (above 5'6") shut their mouths and cowered from the David standing next to the Goliaths. Small people may not have much in the way of physical intimidation, but you'll discover many of them make up for that by thinking they do.  
  
"Ok, well, now that the tubas have all stopped, trumpets, chill. Guys, we're gonna be all right! All we have to do is wait until McAdow can get a janitor to come unlock the doors. Somebody let me through to the door!" Jeff, the band president commanded. It became clear that the band was made of tougher stuff than the directors.  
  
"Mr. McAdow, are there any janitors on the other side of the Bandhall Hall door?!" Jeff yelled to Mr. McAdow.  
  
"Jeff, is that you? Negative, there is absolutely no traffic passing through the athletics hallway! But the janitors WILL make it through here on their rounds, they just haven't gotten through the rest of the school yet!" Mr. McAdow shouted back authoritively. "Where is Mr. Bachelor?"  
  
"Uhhhh.he's.not available right now! Are you Mr. Bachelor?" Jeff covered quickly. He covered his mouth and deepened his voice. "I can't come to the door right now, but I'll be back soon!"  
  
The flutes started giggling. Jeff looked thoroughly embarrassed, but not as completely and utterly humiliated Mr. Bachelor would be if Mr. McAdow knew he had fainted in the direst time of need. After all, weren't the TEACHERS supposed to be in charge.NOT the band presidents and drum majors!  
  
"All right, people, it looks like we're gonna have to hang tight till the janitors come later this afternoon! Does anybody have somewhere important they need to be? Oh, nevermind, you won't get there. If anyone has a cell phone, we'd appreciate it if you'd pass it around and allow people to inform their parents of the situation so there won't be a panic!" Ken called from the other side of the bandhall.  
  
"Sandy, can I use your phone first? I was supposed to go to a dentist appointment, but that won't happen now since I was supposed to be there half an hour ago," Jenny the flute hissed softly to Sandy.  
  
"Sure, go ahead," Sandy whispered back, and handed over her tiny, super-cute blue cell phone. Jenny took it and dialed her mother's cell phone number.  
  
"It's ringing! Maybe we WILL be able to communicate with the outside world!" Jenny exclaimed excitedly. She waited expectantly for her mother to pick up. Suddenly her face fell. She dialed the number again, and waited. She started to panic and dialed again.  
  
"Jenny, what's wrong?" Allison asked in a muted voice.  
  
"It won't finish the call! We forgot that there isn't any cell phone reception in the school, and that means the bandhall, too!" All over the bandhall, people were having the same problem with various phones. The tubas were starting to panic again.  
  
"TUBAS SHUT-UP!" Aimee, the all-state symphonic piccolo player (who was gifted with extreme voice amplification) screamed. "Ok, nobody panic. We'll get the keys from Mr. Bachelor, open his office, and form a line to use his phone!"  
  
Once the keys had been detatched from Mr. Bachelor's unconcious form, the line had started at Mr. Bachelor's door. Calvin, an extremely good trumpet playing freshman, was first to attempt a call to his parents. Just as he heard the "Hello?" from his mother,  
  
"THE LINE WENT DEAD!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WHOSE SICK JOKE IS THIS ANYWAY?!" Calvin screamed loudly enough for everyone in the bandhall to hear.  
  
Panic broke out among several brass sections. NOW how would they get home? Would they miss Opra tonight? Would they have to sleep on the cold, hard bandhall floor instead of their nice warm beds tonight?!  
  
That was the LEAST of the flutes worries as the tubas broke out sobbing and screaming again. How could they possibly live another minute with those big babies in the same BANDHALL as them?!  
  
A/N: Oh, man, you guys might hate them, but I LOVE cliffhangars. Ok, so this one was a little weak, but I have to go study for my math final or I'll never pass! Hope you like the story so far, thanks CHSTromboneQueen for reviewing! It really helps to know people actually LIKE what you write. And btw, the "Dumb Major" phrase really doesn't belong to me, it belongs to the LCHS trombone section. Of course, who would come up with something like that if it wasn't the trombones?! I just forgot, the trombones haven't done anything stupid yet. Oh, but they will, they will. 


	3. Mr Bachelor?

Chapter Three: Mr. Bachelor?  
  
A couple of hours later, calmness had been restored on the prisoners of the bandhall. The brilliant flutes had devised a plan to keep the trumpets and tubas from wetting their pants and having heart attacks. The tubas had been locked in the tuba room with Ken, and the trumpets had likewise been locked in the sink/Loading Crew room with Aimee. There had been enough towels in the sink room (usually used to dry off the brass instruments during marching season) to provide a makeshift couch for each panicking brass member, and therapy sessions had begun. The woodwinds were secretly hoping that the locks would get jammed on those doors, as well. They would lose Aimee, but they knew she could handle herself, and it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.  
  
Everyone was doing his or her best to remain calm. It wasn't that hard when someone had pointed out that they spent their lives in there anyway, what's a couple more hours? This seemed to make perfect sense to all the Band Nerds.  
  
"I can't believe Mr. Bachelor is still out cold," Sandy commented to the Flute Huddle.  
  
"Seriously. That must have been one hard fall. Or the reality of having to spend five more minutes with us sent him into a coma!" Katie exclaimed. Although it WAS a funny joke, and Mr. Bachelor was the band director, everyone hoped this wasn't true. There WAS a good side to every Band Nerd. It was kinda like how they all complained about band to "outsiders," but looked at their friends like they had just sprouted three heads when they suggested they quit.  
  
"Maybe we should check on him. I mean, if he's in a coma, we should at least try to tell Mr. McAdow to see if anyone is out there to call 911!" Sarah, the sympathetic flute spoke up.  
  
This seemed to be an ok plan, so they made their way through the circles of Band Nerds obstructing their path to the uniform room, where they had dragged Mr. Bachelor so he could have some privacy in case he woke up and realized that he had passed out in front of the band (it was the only room without a window.) Katie reached for the doorknob, and was about to just barge in, when Sarah spoke up again. "Maybe we should knock first," she said weakly.  
  
All the flutes sighed in exasperation. "FINE!" Jenny said. She knocked very dramatically to make Sarah happy.  
  
There was no reply.  
  
"Mr. Bachelor, are you in there?" Sarah called, sounding concerned.  
  
Still, no reply.  
  
"That must mean he's still out. Let's go in and see if he looks like he needs anything," Sandy suggested.  
  
All the flutes agreed. Katie reached for the doorknob again, and turned.  
  
All the Band Nerds looked up, startled, when they heard a scream and some shouts from the door of the uniform room.  
  
"IT'S LOCKED!!!"  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"  
  
"WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!?!"  
  
"SHUT-UP!!!"  
  
All the flutes promptly stopped freaking out when they heard Lindsay, a former DI (drill instructor). "Look, all we have to do is find some way to get in. Obviously one of you just forgot to undo the lock before we shut the door. There's no reason to panic!" she continued calmly and authoritatively.  
  
"It's a good thing the trumpets and tubas aren't out here or they'd freak out again," Sandy, the only "non-screamer" muttered under her breath.  
  
Lindsay piled up a couple of marching glove boxes and climbed on top. "Ok, guys, does anyone know how we could get the uniform room door unlocked?"  
  
No one was very surprised when Andrew, a euphonium player and a member of the Loading Crew, spoke up. "I DO! I have a brand new computerized fiber-optic door laser that can melt through the knob and then melt the lock, too! And then I can put it back together when we get in the room! Hang on a sec, lemme just get it from my horn case!" Andrew shouted back at Lindsay.  
  
Andrew had, literally, 20 inches of junk in his marching case. Although he treated his concert horn like a pile of diamonds (only touching the valves, he always used a cloth to hold the horn with his other hand), his marching horn was a completely different story. It took all the brunt of the usual mistreatment of a marching horn and the mistreatment the concert horn would have received. It was also the place you could find just about anything you needed. Including computerized fiber-optic door lasers.  
  
Andrew made his way through the bandhall. Once he had reached the door to the uniform room (and shoved his way through the extremely nervous flutes) he pulled a futuristic device out of his pocket. Flipping a switch on the side, it began to glow blue as its power source illuminated the glass window on the front. Andrew placed a metal point protruding from the front against the smooth silver doorknob and pushed a red button on the side. Instantly, lights began to flash, and a beam shot out of the metal device. The beam, yellow and bright, slowly worked a hole through the knob. Suddenly, a muffled click resounded from the other side of the door.  
  
"All done, it's through!" Andrew informed the flutes cheerfully. He flipped the switch on the side of the laser and the blue glow hummed into darkness. Sarah stepped tentatively forward, and turned the knob. Pushing the door open, she coughed as smoke from the laser poured out of the crack between the door and its jam. It gave everyone the feeling that they were excavating an ancient tomb.  
  
Katie pushed her way into the room and flipped the light switch. "Oh, man, Andy, you're gonna have a BIG mess to clean up! I hope you don't think I'M gonna do it!" Katie called from in the uniform room. "Uh. Guys?" She called.  
  
"Yeah?" someone said from the other side of the door. Scanning the entire room, Katie thought something was definitely strange. She had been the one who had closed the door, and she hadn't locked it, she knew she hadn't. In fact, she had made sure she DIDN'T lock it. (She had heard the stories of a couple flutes accidentally locking their instruments into the uniform room right before a sectional rehearsal when the door had shut behind them.) And unless Mr. Bachelor had woken up and crawled underneath the racks of concert "curtains" and band suspender pants,  
  
"We didn't put Mr. Bachelor under the tuxes, did we?" Katie called. "'Cause if we didn't, he ain't in here!"  
  
"WHAT?!?!?!?!" the entire group of flutes yelped.  
  
"MR. BACHELOR IS GONE!!!!!!!" the cry was picked up by the french horns, and carried all the way through the brass section. All except for the tubas. They were crying again. (It was just the luck of the entire band that the trumpets and tubas, finally calmed, had emerged from their respective therarpy rooms finally calmed down just in time to hear this terrifying news.)  
  
Katie rolled her eyes. 'Why does every single installment of our lovely story have to end in chaos? I don't understand it," she sighed inwardly. Looking expectantly at the Dumb Major, she found several people doing the same thing.  
  
Avoiding everyone's eyes (and trying to block out the screaming tubas), Ken slid against the wall and slumped to the floor. Putting his head in his hands, he faintly mumbled "I give up, I give up, I give up."  
  
Great, now what were they gonna do?  
  
  
  
A/N: I am the sorriest a person could be on the face of this planet for taking over a month to get the third chapter out. I know everyone's experienced writer's block before, but this is the WORST I think I've EVER had it. I got a couple ideas up my sleeve, though, (Jeff Barnhill-be sure to watch for the french horns next time, I've got something planned juuuuuuuust for you. Mwaahahahahaa.) and chapter four should definitely be not as long in coming. I know I've probably lost all my readers, but if you guys are out there, don't give up on me! I'm back! I sorta got a little carried away with my HP fanfics, but I'munna try really really hard to get this one back on track. And besides, don't you guys wanna know where Mr. B. went? LoL. Thanks to everyone who reviewed since last time: CHSTromboneQueen, TrumpetGal4Eva, ellipsis, Andromeda, EvaAmorra, Melodi, Tree, Carolina, uog, the ultimateSora, and Jeff Barnhill!!! No, uog, I don't go to La Canada High School. Anyways, ttfn!  
  
-Mitie Mouse 


	4. The Top Secret Mission, Band Nerd SpaceT...

Chapter Three: The Top Secret Mission, Band Nerd Space-Time Continuum Warp Wormhole To Another Bandhall In Another School Which Means You're In Trouble Have Fun Random Come At The Worst Time Transporters, And The Tuba's Plan  
  
"All right. Here's what we're gonna do," Jeff, the president, spoke up loudly enough to be heard over all the panic and the depressed Dumb Majors. "To avoid further panic, we're going to create a new system. Section by section, the band officers are going to inspect each Band Nerd and decide upon an ultimate Disaster Section Leader. These leaders will be people we haven't seen much evidence of undue chaotic panic."  
  
"Yeah, that'll be a hard decision for us in the trumpet section," Lindsay mumbled.  
  
"Trumpet section? Try the tubas," Aimee replied.  
  
"You're both right. It looks to me as if those two sections are the ones we're creating this whole system for," Jeff leaned over from his perch on the podium and whispered.  
  
Amid suspicious glares, he straightened up and continued. "If there are any problems among your section, you are to calmly and rationally talk some sense into those wimps. ::AHEM:: 'Scuse me. Now, if you can't handle it yourself, see to it that he or she or they remain calm, and report the problem to a band officer. If we're organized into an hierarchy of power, this will go much more smoothly."  
  
"Yeah, uh-huh. HE just wants to be the big boss. This is finally his chance to eliminate Ken from the competition," Allison, another flute player (all-state, in fact) and band officer accused in a low voice. This earned a nasty glare from Jeff.  
  
"We will now begin our inspection phase!"  
  
As the officers started on the far end of the Bandhall, the flutes whispered amongst themselves.  
  
"Where could Mr. Batchelor have gone? He was right there, I saw him! I'M the one who shut the door, and I KNOW I didn't lock it," Katie muttered. It was still bothering her that she didn't lock the door, and somehow it had been locked. And where had Mr. Batchelor gone, anyway? There was no possible way he could have gotten out.  
  
"I'm not sure, but I'd REALLY like to find out," Allison replied. She had ditched the few clarinets that were in the Bandhall to talk to the great and wonderful flutes. (*hehehehehehehehehehehehe!!! Sorry, Allison, I had to get you here somehow, and I just COULDN'T miss a chance to glorify the FLUTES! *)  
  
"Hey, I was just wondering, though. Do you think we should go get Gillian? I mean, now that Mr. Batchelor isn't here to wake up and get her in even MORE trouble for leaving his office, maybe she'd like to come out? And she might know something that could help us. Now that it's not marching band anymore and we both leave the Bandhall relatively early, she spends more time here than us," Katie mused on a sudden impulse. She had totally forgotten Gillian was stuck in the office.  
  
Allison and Katie looked at each other. "Naaaaaaaaaaaaah!!" they both said, smiling mischievously. (*heh heh heh, I apologize Gillian, but it's funny and I knew it'd make you mad…LOL! I'm so evil!! I'll change it if you want me to. *)  
  
"Well, I DO say we investigate the uniform room. There might be something there ya'll missed," Allison whispered after quick contemplation of the situation.  
  
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. But this mission has to be kept top secret, understood?" Katie intoned.  
  
"Roger that, Cadet," Allison giggled. (*Hey, I just watched Cadet Kelly on the Disney Channel, can you blame me? Hehehe! *)  
  
The two girls silently crawled into the uniform room, carefully avoiding calling attention to themselves in any way, and nobody knew they had gone.  
  
Meanwhile, the French horn section was getting restless. They hadn't gone into panic-mode or started anything serious, why were they still stuck here waiting?  
  
"I'm sooooo hungry!" Jenny moaned. (*Remember, Dumb Major's little sister*)  
  
"Hey, look on the bright side. The tubas are big guys, we can eat them if we get hungry!!" Brooks, the perpetually optimistic horn suggested.  
  
"EWWWWWWW GROSS YOU ARE SO DISGUSTING!" Jenny practically screamed back, unaware of the stares she was receiving.  
  
Brooks chuckled at his little joke (which was just that, a joke. Or so we hope. Hmmmm, does anybody REALLY know how the minds of French horns work? I didn't think so.) Apparently, only Brooks found it funny.  
  
"Hmmm, I wonder if we could act real bad in here, and then get kicked out of the Bandhall!" one of the symphonic horns wondered aloud. "I mean, there's no McAdow, so Jeff'd have to get real mad at us, which means we'd have to be real bad. But if we can't get kicked outta rehearsal, we might as well get kicked outta here!"  
  
"I never understood that, either," another symphonic horn chipped in. "No matter how BAD we try to be, we've never gotten kicked out. This is sad, our lifelong goal is to get kicked out of rehearsal. But I say we give this new plan a shot."  
  
"You DUMB-BUTT! We CAN'T get kicked outta the Bandhall, IT'S LOCKED SHUT!!" Jenny pointed out aggressively.  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
The euphoniums weren't doing much better. There were only three, Andy, Riccardo, and Scott. Scott was the only freshman in the entire euphonium section for the year. And he had a way of, well, provoking people.  
  
"Scott, will you please do us a favor and go read your Bathroom Reader and stop talking?" Riccardo interrupted one of Scott's weird stories.  
  
"Oh, um, ok. Sure thing. Will do," Scott complied obliviously. (* NO HARM WAS MEANT TO ANYONE'S FEELINGS OR REPUTATIONS THROUGH WRITING THIS STORY. IF ANY HARM HAS BEEN DONE, I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY. *)  
  
Andy and Riccardo were playing cards with a deck dug out from Andy's baritone case. They were both losing. Somehow, this is possible in brass sections.  
  
At the same time as all of this, (* oooooo MULTIPLOT, WHOO-HOO! *) the tubas were formulating a plan. A rather simple plan admittedly, because they're tubas, but a plan all the same.  
  
"Uh, hey guys," Chris spoke up. "Don't you think we've been crying and whining long enough? I know this is real, real scary, and we're most likely not going to come out of it alive and see our mommies again, but still. We need to try to survive, and show the band what we're really made of!"  
  
All the tubas rallied around the cause, cheering and raising morale. They out their heads together, and began whispering. As if two tuba heads were better than one. Ha.  
  
"What are they DOING?" Jenny asked Sandy, across the Bandhall from the tubas.  
  
"I'm not really sure, and I'm not really sure I WANT to know," Sandy replied, completely absorbed in her Chinese comic book. It was a good one, too, and now that she had it hidden from Patrick and Mickey (two sophomore trumpets completely fascinated by Sandy's ability to read the Chinese comic books, and the books themselves), she was bound and determined to enjoy it to the fullest extent possible.  
  
"It's like they're in some sort of, I don't know, huddle. Sandy, you've GOT to see this!" Jenny persisted, unaware of Sandy's prior engagement.  
  
Sighing, Sandy reluctantly put down her comic book and looked. They WERE in some sort of huddle. But what they were talking about, she had no idea.  
  
"At least they're not crying or anything. That was awful. Hopefully they're keeping each other calm. You know, playing tuba is a genetic disorder. Really. They must have some seriously messed up DNA."  
  
One French horn sighed (* Yep, back to those French horns. ::COUGH COUGH JEFF COUGH COUGH:: *)  
  
"I am so bored. Why aren't you guys talking?"  
  
"A) You're from a different school, we have no idea who you are, where you came from, and why you're here, and we're choosing to shun you. B) We're busy Genius," an LC horn spoke up to the 'Fair horn. It was true. He had absolutely no idea how he'd gotten to LCHS, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be here anymore. (It must have been one of those weird Band Nerd Space-Time Continuum Warp Wormhole To Another Bandhall In Another School Which Means You're In Trouble Have Fun Random Come At The Worst Time Transporters. Hey, EVERYONE'S been in one of THOSE, right? *Twilight Zone Music*)  
  
Jeff, the 'Fair horn, looked around at all the LC horns. They WERE busy. They were all thoroughly engrossed in reading something. What were they all reading?  
  
Suddenly Jeff realized what it was. IT WAS HARRY POTTER! ::DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN!:: Jeff shrugged and went back to staring at the ceiling. "Harry Potter doesn't do much for me, anyway."  
  
Immediately, Jeff's fragile French horn skull was assaulted with several Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire books. And every seven hundred pages hit their mark. (* Mwaahahahahahahahahaha *)  
  
The tubas had almost finished formulating their plan. "Allrighty, then. Here's the deal: biggest to smallest we make a Tuba Pyramid up to the ceiling. Then we'll open a coupla windows and BINGO! We're outta here," Addison, another sophomore tuba whispered.  
  
"Hey, that was MY line!" Chris whispered back in a hurt tone.  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
AND SO WE LEAVE OUR HEROS AND NOT-SO-HEROS STILL STUCK IN THE BANDHALL. KATIE AND ALLISON PLAN TO FIND OUT WHERE MR. BATCHELOR HAS DISAPPEARED TO, THE FRENCH HORNS ARE BEING BAD, CONFUSING, STUPID, AND JUST PLAIN WEIRD, AND THE TUBAS HAVE A PLAN. OH, AND GILLIAN IS STILL STUCK IN MR. BATCHELOR'S OFFICE. POOR UNSUSPECTING CLARINETTY GILLIAN. OH, WELL. WILL THE TUBAS SUCCEED IN RESCUING THE BAND? WILL ALLISON AND KATIE UNCOVER A BIG SECRET? AND WHO IS JEFF THE 'FAIR HORN ANYWAY?! TUNE IN NEXT TIME ON "HELP! (I'M TRAPPED IN THE BANDHALL)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
A/N: Ok, I know, it's a little cheesy. But it's a BAND STORY, what would you expect?! There you are, Jeff Barnhill, the French horns and your very own speaking part. Hehehe! This chapter is dedicated to Isabel and Jeff, who wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Lol. And I seriously doubt anyone but the two of them still read it. Sorry anyone who is offended by this chapter (I have something special in store for you, Gillian, have no fear.) Sorry it took so long, as always. But it's Spring Break, so maybe things'll go a little faster (Readers are thinking, "Yeah, right, uh-huh, that's what she said LAST time.) Aaaaaaanyways, thanks this time around go to Steve, Mackadoodle (Yes, yes, you did help write the beginning of the third chapter, and I thank you for it. Lol.) and Izabelly Rose. Oh and Steve, if you think your version of this story is correct, you're dreaming man. Have fun sleeping! And I will continue to write it how it is: Woodwind Domination. WHOO-HOO! Allrighty, I'm outta here people. Cya 'round.  
  
-Mitie Mouse 


	5. The Really Big Clue and the Really Small...

Chapter Five: The Really Big Clue and the Really Small Pyramid  
  
Katie coughed up yet another lungful of dust. Where did it all come from? As she swept another handful of concert dresses away, one slipped from her grasp and cascaded into her squinched-up face. As eddies of dust shot out of the dress upon impact, she received her answer. "Doesn't anybody ever clean up in here?! They should know by now that a bunch of infrequently washed and worn clothing attracts a ton of dust!" Katie demanded, frustrated. "I told you, it's the only room with a lock! For some reason, my dad always makes sure it's locked, even when the janitors come through the bandhall," Allison explained helplessly. Her search on the other side of the uniform room was taking her through the racks upon racks of marching pants lining the wall. It was just as fruitless and aggravating as Katie's appeared to be. As another suspender buckle swung down and caught Allison in the nose, she made an indistinct noise that sounded suspiciously like a roar. "WE'RE NEVER GOING TO FIND HIM!!!" she shouted in rage from underneath a tumble of marching pants that had become dislodged from their hangers. "Hi, guys!" "Whoa, who said that?!" Katie jumped, whirling around, her eyes wide with surprise and slight fear. A viewing of the scary mini-series Rose Red six months ago still found her skittish in small, dark places. Or big, dark places for that matter. "Not me," Allison said needlessly, narrowing her eyes as she searched the uniform room for the owner of the new voice. "I did!" the voice called loudly, a trace of irritation now detectable. "THE UNIFORM ROOM IS HAUNTED!" Katie squealed, starting to make a beeline for the door. Allison grabbed her wrist and held her back before she could run screaming into the bandhall and start up another panic. "Katie, I'm down here!" the disembodied voice called. Katie thought it was coming from behind a particularly loaded and dusty rack in the very back corner of the room. Trembling from head to toe, Katie glanced at Allison fearfully. Allison stared back for a moment, and then raised her eyebrows, jerking her head in the direction of the corner. "What?! I'm not doing it!!!" Katie squeaked resentfully. Allison sighed and then headed for the corner. Katie followed her hesitantly on tiptoe. Clearing the hanging concert dresses and marching pants, Allison's mouth fell open when she saw where the voice was coming from. "HOLY COW!" Katie shouted.  
  
Meanwhile, in the bandhall, the tubas' hastily plotted plan was beginning to take shape. Several of the larger, upperclassmen tubas were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, looking on thickly as the smaller tubas tried to hoist up the second level of boys. "What the heck are you guys doing?!" Sandy asked as she approached the odd scene. "Getting out of here, what's it look like?" Chris retorted, a little hurt that Sandy hadn't recognized their brilliant scheme immediately. "Definitely not that," Sandy shot back, her eyebrows raised as a freshmen tuba tumbled off the stack. "Yeah, well, neither, neither does, does, YOUR MOM!" Chris floundered for a comeback. Now he was really hurt. Didn't Sandy, perfect flute that she was, realize what was transpiring before her very nose? What Chris did not know was that Sandy, perfect flute that she was, COULD see what was really transpiring: the dumbest thing anyone in the LCHS band had ever come up with.  
  
"Guys, I'm really bored. Isn't there something better to do than read Harry Potter?" Jeff the 'Fair horn whined for the billionth time since readers had witnessed his pulverization via multiple copies of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Instantly, a shower of the very same books aforementioned materialized out of nowhere, having been hurled from the hands of their readers once again, and caught Jeff right on his blundering head.  
  
"GILLIAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?!" Katie shouted once she had regained full control of her voice. Gillian's head was sticking right out of the floor, a circular piece of wood covered with carpet lying beside the hole her head was currently occupying. "I'm not really sure exactly. One minute I was, er, relaxing in Mr. Bachelor's chair. The next, I had leaned back really far and I had to stick out my hand to grab the desk before I fell over, and I touched this really disgusting wad of chewed-up bubblegum on the underside of the desk, and the little mini-fridge moved over and there was this hole that opened up in the wall behind it!" Gillian exclaimed, smiling brightly. She apparently thought this was great fun. "I thought I technically wasn't 'stepping foot outside the door' like Mr. Bachelor had told me not to, and so I went through the wall and down this really fun slide and then landed in this cool little tunnel all lit up by torches in brackets on the walls. As soon as I reached the end of the tunnel, I climbed up this ladder and pushed a little red button on the wall, and, well, here I am!!!" Allison was completely and utterly speechless. "You mean to tell me there's a secret passage leading from Mr. Bachelor's office to the uniform room?!" Apparently Katie was not. "Yeah. Don't' know why, though. Seems real cool to have a secret passage in your office. You could go anywhere! But why would you want to go to the uniform room when you could just walk right across the bandhall?" Gillian answered, still smiling widely. "Hey, guys, I think I might know," Allison finally spoke up quietly. Her eyes were directed upwards toward the ceiling. Katie and Gillian slowly followed her gaze, directing their own eyes upward. There was a dangling piece of rope shut between two neighboring ceiling tiles.  
  
"I'm so hungry!" Kevin, a trumpet wailed. "I feel like I haven't had anything to eat in DAYS!" "Me, too!" Dustin, a fellow trumpet wailed back. Erin, one of the only girl trumpet players at LCHS looked at her male counterparts in disgust. "You guys are such a disgrace. It's been four hours. Just think of it as a marching practice, only this way, you're not DOING anything." Kevin and Dustin looked at her with admiration shining in their eyes. "You're right, Erin!" Kevin declared in amazement. No matter how bad it was in here, it was better than marching practice! So far, anyway. "How can you be so smart, Erin? You're a TRUMPET!" Dustin asked eagerly, wanting to be let in on her secret. "Ah, but you forget. I'm a girl."  
  
"OUCH!" Tim, a little freshman tuba, muttered for the millionth time as he again toppled from the top of the pitiful tuba pyramid that had been going through various attempts to construct itself this entire time.  
  
What will Katie, Allison, and Gillian find above the uniform room should they choose to investigate the matter? Could this possibly lead them to discovering where Mr. Bachelor as gone? And will the tubas finally succeed in making it to the top of the bandhall? What will they do once they've gotten that far? Will they stop falling and coming up with desperate, lame comebacks so that they can avoid destroying the pitifully few brain cells they possess? Will Jeff the Outsider learn his lesson and become "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire Smart?" (You know, like STREET SMART!) And finally, will the trumpets be able to survive any longer without food??? Marching practices can only extend so long, and then the girl trumpets will have to come up with some other analogy to get their male counterparts to shut their mouths and quit their whining. Well, tune in to the next chapter of "HELP! (We're Trapped in the Bandhall!)" to find out the answers to these extremely important, matter-of-life-and-death questions!  
  
A/N: Okie-dokie, there's chapter five. These chapters tend to be shorter than my Harry Potter chapters, but I think that's somewhat intentional. After all, this is my OWN writing, so I have to work a lot harder to pull this stuff out of NOWHERE since I don't have anything to base it on but my brain and my band. And I think, knowing my band, I'd be better off with just my brain. Lol. But doesn't everybody think that? Anyway, I had sudden inspiration to work on this story again (thanks, Allison), so I think it might be safe to say you can come back sometime RELATIVELY soon and find another chapter. How 'bout it? No more of this three-months-at-a- time-business if you read and review. Deal? Excellent. I'll catch ya later gators. Oh, and Jeff, you can expect several more little cameos of your own. Of MY design, of course. MWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Bye- bye! ~Mitie Mouse 


	6. The Secret of the Uniform Room

Chapter Six: The Secret of the Uniform Room  
  
"Ok, so now that we've discovered this tunnel underneath the bandhall and this rope between the ceiling tiles, what do you propose we do about it?" Katie asked, her eyes glued to the rope, her hands on her hips. "Oh, I don't know, I thought we'd just look at it for a while," Gillian replied sarcastically. "Oh, honestly, stop it! Why don't we just do a little investigating? After all, if the entire band knew about what we were doing, then we wouldn't get anything done, would we? So let's just go up there right now," Allison suggested, beginning to talk faster as her plan took shape. "Shouldn't we tell someone where we're going? I mean, we could get eaten or shot or stabbed or kidnapped or who knows what up there!" Gillian pleaded, her words tumbling out of her mouth in a frightened heap. "What do you think is up there, Gillian, a DRAGON?? We're in the bandhall, for crying out loud! If there was anything up there, I should think it would have become so aggravated with our brass's lovely blats and blasts that it would have come down and fried or devoured us all by now," Katie attacked in a sarcastic tone to match Gillian's best. Gillian sighed in defeat. "Fine. If you're sure. But if I get eaten up there, we all know whose fault it is, and you get to pay for my funeral." "If you get eaten, I find it highly unlikely I won't." "AHHH! Would you two just shut up and help me figure out how to get up there!?" Allison shouted in frustration.  
  
  
  
"Ok, so let me get this straight. Harry Potter. Boy Wonder. Some little wizard kid who goes to this wizard school and is real famous and has to beat this evil dude with a stupid name all the time. That's what this is all about?" Jeff held up a heavy copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. "More or less, yes." Jenny the French horn replied. "That's not so special at all. I think I could probably write something better. More original, that much is for certain, at least," Jeff plunged ahead recklessly. He obviously didn't know when to quit. Stupid French horn. "How dare you just show up in OUR bandhall at OUR school and insult OUR favorite literature!" one of the French horns accused in a disgusted, highly offended tone. "The affrontery!" "It's not MY fault!" Jeff whined. "I didn't even want to BE here! I wanted to be back in my own safe bandhall where not everyone is psycho except for Jimmy. But you never get to choose whether or not you get sucked up by these weird vortexes in bandhalls that apparently take books and things right from under our noses, and I got sucked up right along with all the geometry books this time!" "Tough luck, kid, now shut-up about Harry Potter or you'll wish you WERE a geometry book," one of the older French horns muttered threateningly. "And that's another thing. Those dumb Harry Potter books. I TOLD you you guys were psycho. I think you should hook up with Jimmy Nowell, our assistant director at Cy-Fair," Jeff continued, seeming to think his little joke was rather hilarious. He was favored with another splitting headache as a torrent of Harry Potter books, and not just GOF this time, hit him square in his stupid, empty, "foreign" French horn head.  
  
  
  
"Guys, I hate to be a wet blanket, but this isn't working too well," Chris called up to the tubas that had managed to balance on top of the first level. "You really ARE as dumb as they say you are. You're not a blanket at all! You're a PERSON, Chris!" one of the tubas called down to the ground level. Chris sighed heavily, and the slight motion threw the stability of the tuba pyramid (what little there was to begin with), and all the tubas came tumbling to the floor.  
  
  
  
"What's going on in there??" Mr. McAdow called from the other side of the Bandhall Hall door. Everyone near the door gasped in surprise and fear. They had completely forgotten that their head director was on the other side of the door. Actually, they had rather begun to enjoy their time in the bandhall in which they did not have to be absolutely quiet or DO anything, really. "Somebody talk to him!" one of the Band Nerds near the door hissed urgently. "How about YOU do it, then?" another Band Nerd fired back. "Are you crazy?? I'M not going to talk to him!!" "Where's Allison, she'll be able to do it!!" "I don't know, I haven't seen her in a while." "Can anyone hear me??" McAdow called, more fiercely and urgently. "AHHHHH, somebody's gotta talk to him!!" "Oh my GOSH, I'LL do it!" Jenny, the flute player, almost shouted crossly. She was immediately shushed by the other Band Nerds by the doorway. She only rolled her eyes in response. "Yes, Mr. McAdow?" Jenny called sweetly through the Bandhall door. "I want everything to be absolutely quiet in there!" McAdow called back grumpily. "Oh, darn, I was beginning to think he'd forgotten. We ALWAYS have to be quiet!" Sandy sighed in frustration, and then obediently shut her mouth.  
  
  
  
"Ok, now that we've FINALLY got all the French horn reflectors piled up, we just need to figure out how to get from that stack up to the ceiling," Allison speculated as she stood back and surveyed their set-up. "Watch and learn," Katie replied confidently. She hopped on top of the reflectors and then motioned Gillian over to stand behind her. "Ok, Gillian, we're gonna do a partner stunt up here. I think that'd be safer than a basket toss. Once I'm up there, I'll turn around and pull you guys up, ok?" "No problemo," Gillian nodded. She mounted the stack of reflectors, and turned Katie's back to her and grabbed her hips, and Katie held on to Gillian's wrists. "On three. One. Two. THREE!" On three, Gillian bent her knees and hurled Katie straight up into the air. Katie pushed herself up off of Gillian's wrists, and as Gillian straightened up and extended her arms, Katie's feet fell right into them. The whole thing ended with Katie balancing precociously in Gillian's hands at shoulder-level. "Ok, Gillian, just walk over there and I'll step off onto that shelf of extra shoes," Katie directed from her perch in the air. "I should've known," Allison muttered under her breath. "Cheerleading." "Allrighty," Gillian replied, and began to slowly walk over to the high shelf. Once she had made her way there, she carefully called up to Katie "Are you going to step off now?" "Wait a minute," Katie said, sounding puzzled and intrigued. "What's this?" "What's what??" Gillian cried desperately. "I can't hold you up there all day, you know!" "Just wait one minute, will ya? I've found something!" Katie shouted back indignantly. She wasn't THAT heavy. She stood in Gillian's hands, staring at the large, round red button just behind a pair of shoes she had accidentally dislodged in an attempt to locate a foothold on the shelf. "If you were to just find a big red button in a really obscure place, would you push it?" Katie called back ambiguously. "What are you talking about??" Allison yelled back, wondering what on Earth Katie was up to. "I did, that's how I got here!" Gillian pointed out. Katie was heavier than she apparently thought she was. Either that or playing clarinet had wasted all of Gillian's muscles as well as her brain cells. *Heh heh heh.* "You've got a point," Katie admitted. She hesitated for just one moment longer, and then decided to go for it. "Hey, you know what they say- Just Do It," she muttered under her breath. She stuck out a finger and pushed the big red button. The ceiling tile that had the piece of rope trapped slowly slid back as a gust of wind blasted down to meet the three girls. Gillian completely forgot she was holding Katie, and rubbed her stinging eyes incredulously. Katie toppled off of the stunt, and landed in a surprisingly gushy (although dusty) pile of long unused concert dresses. A shiny silver ladder slid gracefully out of the hole the ceiling tile had revealed, and as it glided to a stop on the uniform room floor, a pleasant, robotic voice accompanied it. "Welcome back, Mr. Bachelor." Gillian and Allison stared at each other in utter disbelief. Katie coughed and spluttered and grumbled, trying to fight her way out of the seemingly animate pile of concert dresses.  
  
  
  
SO THE SECRET OF THE UNIFORM ROOM HAS BEEN REVEALED! COULD THIS BE WHERE MR. BACHELOR HAS GONE? AND WILL THE TUBAS FINALLY LEARN THE MEANING OF THE PHRASE "A WET BLANKET" AND REALIZE THAT THEIR UTTERLY IDIOTIC PLAN IS SIMPLY NOT WORKING? AND EXACTLY WHEN WILL THAT DAD-GUM CY-FAIR FRENCH HORN PLAYER JEFF LEARN: WHEN IN ROME, DO AS THE ROMANS? NOT EVERY BANDHALL IS JUST LIKE HIS, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE! AND WILL MCADOW RELENT AND GRACIOUSLY ALLOW HIS BAND TO TALK? TUNE IN TO THE NEXT CHAPTER OF "HELP! (WE'RE TRAPPED IN THE BANDHALL!)" TO FIND OUT!!!  
  
A/N: Look, I wrote another chapter! Yay for me! Ok, ok, I'll admit it, it's Christmas break. I'll try to write more, I really will. Even though I say that every time. So hopefully I'll actually DO it this time. Merry Christmas to everybody, and I hope you have a wonderful holiday!! 


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